


Foraging

by meanderingsoul



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Past Character Death, Phobias, Platonic Cuddling, Psychological Trauma, Season/Series 05 Spoilers, Serious Injuries, Sharing a Bed, Touch-Starved, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 06:55:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12906543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meanderingsoul/pseuds/meanderingsoul
Summary: Melinda had thought she’d known what real loneliness felt like, but her life hadnothingon that other version of May.





	Foraging

 

Melinda had thought she’d known what real loneliness felt like, but her life had _nothing_ on that other version of Agent May.

In that Framework world she’d never known Phil. There’d been no field agent willing to back Hawkeye’s crazy play, so there’d been no Natasha. No Mack. No Simmons. No Elena and all her potential. Andrew dead and gone in a way that was completely and utterly her fault instead of just partially. Maria and Fury dead. A version of Daisy who was still Skye, a strange shade she’d cared nothing about. A version of Fitz who was just a frightening stranger to obey.

The pain she carried for Katya, that hadn’t changed in the Framework. She’d had to kill the poor girl in the end anyway. But that other life…

Waking up, breathing in real air, something in her had wanted to _scream_ when Phil set her down, when he let go of her leg. Warm palms over thin fabric. She’d wanted so desperately to hug Fitz, _their_ Fitz, the puppyish, genius man he really was who’d always been so skittishly kind to her, not that _monster_ , but she couldn’t get her damn legs under her. It had been so hard not just to keep Daisy tucked close under her arm in the containment module, warm and breathing and too bloody.

That other May’s life was still in her brain and she’d been _starving_.

It wasn’t hard, keeping the lives straight in her head. There hadn’t been much time to think about it yet, but there was no mixing them up. Everything from about 19 onwards was just so… empty. But that other May’s desperation seemed to have broken down something inside her that Melinda hadn’t even felt lingering, some barrier.

It was still hard to let Coulson out of her space, out of her sight, even here wherever the hell they were now.

He always knew exactly how bad she was hurt, no matter what she did to hide the damage, so she let him help thread her arms into her jacket, let him brace the wrist that throbbed like it was broken, let him fold the collar neatly into place and untangle her hair from the fabric, smoothing a palm warm over her shoulders. She drank it down, ignored how bad she wanted to bury her face in one of the creases in his shirt and not move for days.

She knew she’d barely seen these people in weeks, which was bad enough. Some robot copy had stolen her life, but part of her brain felt like she hadn’t seen Phil in about 30 years.  

But she couldn’t afford to turn her back on the enemy for too long.

It hadn’t been anything like an immediate fear of hands, when everything…changed.

From the scared and crazed little girl who'd wanted her hand held, or her own bloodied hands reaching out for that little body, something had twisted. There’d been the grey haze of shock for a while and by the time Phil had reached for her again in that Bahrain hospital, the terror and disgust were both so immediate she’d kicked him away before she’d realized she’d moved. She hadn’t even been able to let _Andrew_ touch her, someone who’d been the kind of man who couldn’t stand it when he’d so much as left hickies on her.

She’d really thought that was loneliness, living alone and working in that quiet office cave where people knew better than to try and chitchat with her. She’d thought she’d known lonely when she’d still had texting with Nat and Phil who tried to persuade her into lunch every few weeks or months when he was around, coworkers who were willing to smile at her and Dad who’d still called her every couple weeks.  

But that was a wealth the other May couldn’t even imagine. The other May had lived like a drone, celibate and friendless and silent in a way that didn’t come natural. She’d been numb with it, sick under the weight.

Melinda hadn’t realized she still had so much fear being touched until it was gone, until she could feel the _need_ again, maybe feel it for the both of them.

Maybe she still wasn’t going anywhere good when she died, seeing Phil talking to her that one time without remembering any of the words proved nothing, but she had people in her life here and the idea of closing the distance between them in a way that wasn’t sparring no longer made her nauseous.  

So she kept her hand around Coulson’s arm until the last possible second. She reached out to meet Elena when she approached, unbloodied and smiling after they’d all heard her screaming, and when Elena hugged her gently and brushed a kiss to her cheek it only felt good. It felt right. After so long without, it was kind of amazing.

It was a desperate, needy kind of wonder though, the short-lived kind of relief that came from foraging.

When they’d all crowded in to yet another cramped, grimy little hellhole on this bunker it was the first chance to be still in what felt like days. This was another weird, cobbled together space, somebody’s “vacancy” that had been a sad apartment, two almost-rooms with no door and a gap in the walls that served as a hallway between, so narrow Mack had to turn sideways. Two pallet-beds with no bedding. The air metallic and sour and a little too dry.

She limped into the emptier space while the others talked. It hurt her leg to sit down, but Melinda knew she needed to, needed to get her boots loosened around her ankles and her feet up, let the torn muscles rest. The pallet pressed against the wound in the back of her leg in a way that made her hiss. At least the skin wasn’t that hot under the bandages, under her fingertips. She had that so far. If it got infected that high up on her leg in this place... she didn’t have a chance.

Daisy stormed in after a while, palpably buzzing from worry for Simmons, but it only took a look to make her sit down. They didn’t need to have the _exhaustion is bad for self-control_ conversation with words anymore. They’d been able to get Daisy’s wounds cleaned up the right way before the diner and her Inhuman genetics let her heal a little faster, but she needed to be off her feet almost as badly as Melinda did.

She watched Daisy glower at the wall near their boots until the girl finally dozed off.

She was leaned back against the wall same as Melinda, shoulder to shoulder an inch apart. Habit. Something made her shift Daisy closer until her head rested warm and heavy on her own shoulder, her body slumped along her right side where she wouldn’t accidentally knee the wound in her thigh in her fitful sleep. Daisy was breathing slow with a little frown. Every once in a while Melinda could feel a faint thrum run through the arm she'd slid around her shoulders. Slowly she curled her fingers to stroke along the girl’s arm while she slept.

Something deep down inside her, something in the back of her brain was humming with stunned pleasure.

Phil slipped into the room silently under Mack and Elena’s voices, probably hoping she was asleep. She saw his face when he noticed them, how his eyes went soft, the faintest curve of a smile as he met her gaze before he moved away. Phil needed to think. She could see all the wheels turning in his head, timelines and training and numbers of Kree.

Melinda watched him sit and stare unseeingly at the damp wall until she finally fell asleep herself.

They worked. Scouted.

There was no day and night cycle here and she’d lost count of hours a while ago, but Coulson was trying to sleep in the other room and she couldn’t see him, hear him, or smell him and it was only a matter of time before she lost the fight with herself to go make sure he still _existed_.

He was awake when she finally crept in, sat up when he saw her face.

“It’s not that I’m having trouble keeping the lives straight. I know you aren’t either. But, part of my brain is convinced it hasn’t seen you in thirty _years_ and I can’t… and I know you didn’t tell me everything that happened yet. I know you’re still too scared of something to just _tell me_ but…”

“May.”

Her head went quiet. He could always cut down anything frantic in her with just a word.

Phil stood up and shrugged a little, holding out an arm in invitation. “I missed you.”

She stepped into him and Phil shuddered like he needed her too, arms going tight around her body, pressing her to him so close she could feel the flex of him breathing, belly and ribs. She clung tight around his stomach and put her forehead against his chest.

For a moment, her everything was dark and warm and quiet. His palm rubbed warm and heavy up and down her back.

By far not for the first time in her life she had the thought that she’d really like to kiss him right now. She was getting the feeling that if she did it would be welcomed, that he wanted to drink her in maybe almost in the same way as whatever _need_ that other May’s life had woken up in her.

She didn’t. She left her face buried in his chest and felt his cheek resting on her head and fisted her fingers in his dirty shirt. It wasn’t the right time for that.

There was something pavlovian about the smell of him like this. She’d spent most of her twenties stealing shirts out of his laundry to sleep in. It was making her drowsy.

Of course he felt it the moment her weight swayed into him, his arm tightening around her waist somehow. “You need as much sleep as you can get, ok? I know it’s not bleeding around the burns, but that is serious muscular damage and I don’t think we’re going to be able to get you things like vitamins or antibiotics or even adequate protein for a while.”

“I’ve had worse,” she mumbled without moving.

“You’ve had way more than your fair share of bad these last few years. I’m _sick_ of it.”

“I’ve still got all my appendages, thanks.”

Phil sighed. “It’s not a contest May.”

When he let go he kept ahold of her arm, pulling her with him when he shuffled back onto the pallet, leaning against the wall with his legs splayed out.

“The other bed’s empty. The girls are out. Mack’s on the floor. He doesn’t fit,” she said.

“I know, but you’ve got a through-and-through to your inner thigh. Lying down isn’t comfortable anyway. And we… just stay here. Please.”

She didn’t actually _want_ to argue. She wanted to ask him to unbutton his shirt first, but it was cold here and being held had already been enough to make her eyes prick with tears.

It was an awkward shuffle to get her onto her right side between his thighs and her shoulder was probably hurting his ribs, but with her left knee cautiously braced up on his leg it _finally_ took the pressure off her wound. Melinda slid her arm back around his waist and got a fistful of his shirt.

“This ok?” he asked.

“Yeah. Yeah this is good.” She’d probably slurred the words a bit, mostly asleep already. He was warm enough it eased the muscle ache a little.

Hesitantly, she felt his hand move up to her hair, smoothing over it rhythmically with a light touch, petting. He’d never really done that before. Something of the need that had woken up outside of the Framework finally calmed.

She fell asleep to the steady thud of his once-shredded heart.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I could never decide how I thought May was going to react to being so alone in the Framework for so long. I know there were some cool theories and what-ifs that went around about memory issues or that maybe she'd backslide into isolating herself again due to the experience, but none of that ever really felt right to me. I couldn't put my finger on what I was thinking until May was so unhesitatingly touchy in 5x01. With as unbelievably lonely as Framework May's life seemed to be, I think it's helped May get past her lingering issues with touch. She has lots of people in the real world that love her. And she's definitely carrying a debt of positive physical contact. More hugs for May please!
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


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